


she stretched out on a long white table

by ElasticElla



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Blood Sharing, Community: lands_of_magic, Episode: s03e03 The End of the Affair, F/M, Ripper Stefan Salvatore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-15 23:37:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18509404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: Stefan goes back to his apartment without Klaus.





	she stretched out on a long white table

**Author's Note:**

> working title was fuckmeinyourmurdercloset.odt so uh that's p much the mood here, tho softer  
> the tvd reaction fics are now going out of order to match other challenges easier (I know I know, shame on me); title from st. james infirmary
> 
> come chat on [dreamwidth](https://elasticella.dreamwidth.org) \o/

“You shouldn’t be here.” 

Elena lets out a breath, he’s alone. It’s beyond lucky, and she can’t stand for relief, leaning against the closet wall. Out of the corner of her eye is his writing, and it’s all too easy to imagine her name at the bottom of the list in shaky cursive. 

“I know.” 

He stands in the doorway, and gods, she’s missed him. Her feet spin her around before her mind or other muscles catch up, nearly collapsing into his arms. 

Stefan catches her, as if there was ever a question, hands stabilizing her, one beneath her elbow and the other on her hip. A familiar comfort, and this trip was the right decision, if only to be reminded how real this is. That there’s more beneath heartache and loss, still beating strong. 

“How do you expect this to end Elena? I can’t come back with you.” 

“You can-”

“I don’t want to go home!” 

She can’t suppress the flinch, but she can bring her fingers up to cup his face. “Then I’ll stay here.” 

He laughs, bitter and cracked. “You can’t- you’re crazy.” 

“I’m not letting you go.”

“I’ve been killing people- did Damon tell you that? There’s a trail of innocent blood behind me. I’m not the same person. I never will be.” 

Her grip tightens, meeting his eyes. “You’re still mine.” 

“You deserve-”

“You’re _mine_.” 

Their mouths crash together, and Elena isn’t even thinking about recovering his humanity anymore. She’s not letting anything- certainly not Stefan’s misguided ideas of her future- stop her. Hunger bleeds into the kiss, shoving her back against the shelves, glass bottles tinkling. In a blink, Stefan has her back up against the wall instead, heat burning through her. 

She can’t help but read _Jeremiah Drueke_ and _Matthew D’Abrosio_ and Stefan’s lips move down to her neck. He’s hesitating, and Elena curls her fingers in his hair. 

“Do it.” 

He doesn’t second guess her, fangs coming out at her words. They slip into her neck easy, pain shooting all the way down to her toes. He’s being messy, gulps and wet slurps and blood dripping down his face. It won’t work- he can’t scare her away. 

After Klaus she insisted on only offering her wrist, and she keeps her eyes open, can’t forget where she is. She’s going light-headed, the pain becoming distant. There’s still a ways to go, she knows that all too well. 

She pets his face with the last of her energy, fingers pressing over the black veins. “You’ll always be mine.” 

Stefan doesn’t slow down, not until she slumps against him. At which point he stops abruptly, pushing her away at arms length. He’s already torn his wrist open before she can process the movement.

Holding his wrist to her mouth, he murmurs, “What the hell were you thinking?” 

She has to drink before she can answer, too many thoughts tumbling around her head. Her father- _John_ died for her humanity. Her precious humanity that’s always putting everyone at risk, and here she is, greedily sucking down vampire blood. A mere death away from it being gone forever, from-

“You were able to stop yourself. That’s good.” 

Stefan steps back quickly, rubbing his forehead. “Do you have any idea how much I want to kill you right now?” 

Acute pain runs through her, so much worse than the bite. Her voice comes out barely more than a whisper, “What?”

His hand falls, and he leans over her, a finger trailing down her face. “I could do it too. I’m selfish like this Elena. You die, and we have eternity. Tell me you don’t want that. Tell me nothing’s changed.” 

She can’t. 

She’s known it since they started driving out to Chicago. There were only two possible, acceptable, ways for this meeting to go. And she came anyways, hasn’t drank vervain tea in a week. Isobel’s pendant is tucked beneath her shirt, has never felt so light. 

She kisses him softly, feels the tremble beneath her mouth. “Do it fast.” 

He does. 

.

There’s a pen, limp in his hand, and she takes it. Elena signs her own name, clear and neat. 

(There’s still human blood on his lips, the last of that precious doppelganger blood, and she licks it off.)


End file.
